


Worth the Wait

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Misunderstanding 'Verse [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, so a certain amount of xenokink, super self-indulgent, weird alien genitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: The longer you wait for some things, the sweeter they are when you finally get them.Their friends all love them and want them to be happy, plus they've spent the past however many years it's been as the captive audience to his and Keith's relationship. Shiro knows this, knows that they all care and are no doubt extremely happy that he and Keith are finally on the same page at last.That said, he thinks that giving them what amounts to a standing ovation when they finally get around to rejoining the party, hand-in-hand, is a little bit much.Matt laughs in his face when he says so. "No, believe me, it's really, really not." He just grins when Shiro scowls at him. "As long as we've spent watching the two of you dancing around each other? This is theleastof what we owe you."





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sol1056](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol1056/gifts).



> The first time Keith and Shiro sleep together after the events of "A Common Misunderstanding." 6591 words, adult for smut, written because Sol1056 asked and I am weak versus plot bunnies. Shamelessly schmoopy with a side of Weird Galra Physiology because I love that stuff.

Their friends all love them and want them to be happy, plus they've spent the past however many years it's been as the captive audience to his and Keith's relationship. Shiro knows this, knows that they all care and are no doubt extremely happy that he and Keith are finally on the same page at last.

That said, he thinks that giving them what amounts to a standing ovation when they finally get around to rejoining the party, hand-in-hand, is a little bit much.

Matt laughs in his face when he says so. "No, believe me, it's really, really not." He just grins when Shiro scowls at him. "As long as we've spent watching the two of you dancing around each other? This is the _least_ of what we owe you."

Shiro can't argue with that, but still. The rest of the party-goers look rather confused by the whole thing, however politely they go along with it. 

Then he looks at Keith, whose entire posture is so buoyed by his mood that Shiro hardly recognizes him, who is so happy that he can't hide his smile behind his usual reserve, can't suppress the softness of it behind something moderate and contained, and he forgets to be annoyed by the fact that all their friends are sarcastic assholes. He'll put up with anything as long as Keith keeps smiling like that.

He reminds himself of that later when they discover that someone (Allura) has instructed the castle staff to move his and Keith's overnight bags to the same room, which someone (Lance) has made sure is outfitted with an excessive number of lit candles, the neo-Altean equivalent of rose petals everywhere, and a bottle of space champagne on ice next to a basket of what Shiro's brain refuses to recognize as assorted marital aids.

Keith is the one to break the long, speechless silence of staring at their new bedroom's extravagances. "Everyone we know is an asshole." 

"Letting Lance marry Allura might have been a mistake." Shiro shakes his head. "Some people can't be trusted with a castle full of highly-trained staff willing to follow their every order."

"There's no _might_ about it. It was definitely a mistake." Keith rubs the hand not wrapped around Shiro's over his red face before looking at him. "So, do we ask for our old rooms back, or do I sleep on the floor, or do we abandon planet and our idiot friends until they've gotten the worst of it out of their systems, or what?"

"That's an interesting set of choices there." It hardly seems possible, but Keith's face goes a darker shade of red. "Is sharing the bed just not on the table at all?" It was, or Shiro thinks it was, when Allura and Lance's majordomo had first informed them of the change in their accommodations, and God knows he's shared a bed with Keith plenty of times before. So what's changed?

"Oh, uh, yeah, no, of course it's an option if you're comfortable with it. Just with all of this—" Keith waves his hand at the scene, all of it lit by the hazy golden glow of candlelight. "—I didn't want to assume. Or, you know, presume." He makes a face. "Seriously, Lance, it's been all of five hours, that's a little on the fast side."

Ah. So that's what's changed. Shiro tries to decide on the best way to approach the issue. The elephant, or bed, in the room. "Five hours, sure. That's one way to look at it. Or another way would be to say it's been five years." Give or take, anyway.

"Sure, I guess." Keith allows it as carefully as he might try negotiating with potentially hostile sentients. "Guess it depends on how you're looking at it, that's true. I'm game to share the bed if you are. Lance being Lance doesn't mean we have to do more than that."

"Of course not." Shiro watches Keith's gaze dart around the room, never landing anywhere for too long and always avoiding him. "Just… one question, okay?" He waits for Keith to grunt something that he can construe as permission." Are you saying that because you want to take things slowly, or are you saying that because you think I might want to?"

There, that's the right question to have asked: Keith twitches and his expression does something complicated, several shifts passing over his face in rapid succession as he attempts to process the question and figure out an answer. "I—" He stops there and catches his bottom lip between his teeth when he realizes he doesn't know which answer Shiro is looking for.

It's probably going to be a while before they unlearn the habits of not pushing past the boundaries of _just friends_. That's something to keep in mind. For now Shiro moves to rescue Keith from his indecision and squeezes his hand. "If it's because you want to take things slow, that's not a problem _at all_ , okay?" He waits for Keith's barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment. "Okay. That said…" His own face feels warm now, but that's just how it goes in discussions like this. "I don't think we need to observe some arbitrary amount of time before having sex, just because it's customary or whatever, unless we want to do that. I don't see the need for it, but if you want to be traditional about it, or there are, I don't know, Galra customs you'd like to observe, I'm okay with that, too."

"Galra customs…?" Keith's shoulders ease perceptibly as he echoes Shiro. "Seriously, Shiro?"

Shiro grins at him. "I'm trying to be culturally aware and sensitive here, geez. And I know you talk with Krolia and the other Blades about things, so." He shrugs. "I want to be a supportive boyfriend."

Keith shudders, haunted by some memory. "If I never talk to my mother about sex again, it will still be too soon." 

Given his own memories of the The Talk with his grandparents, Shiro can relate. He squeezes Keith's hand again. "Bad?"

Keith shakes his head, wrinkling his nose. "Just… really, really weird. And awkward. Anyway." He shakes it off. "If there are any of those customs, I don't know about them. And, um." He smiles, small and shy. "I'd kind of like to go ahead and sleep with my, um. Boyfriend."

"Yeah?" Shiro turns to him, lifting his hand to touch Keith's face, cupping the corner of his jaw and sliding his thumb along the crest of his cheek. "So would I."

Keith's smile slips a little wider as he leans into Shiro's palm and steps closer, bringing them chest to chest. "Sounds like we should do something about that, huh?"

As Keith slides his hand into Shiro's hair, drawing him down, Shiro says, "Yeah, we should," right before their lips meet.

Shiro doesn't know or particularly care how long they spent outside earlier, kissing each other with the same urgency two men rescued from drowning might gasp for air, but this is different—less desperate, aching relief and more promise of good things yet to come. They both move to pull each other closer; his hand fits the shape of Keith's hip like they were made for each other. Keith spreads his hands over Shiro's shoulders and flexes his fingers against the muscle not entirely unlike a cat kneading its paws. 

Shiro is already baffled that he could have gone this long without this in his life. Keith kisses him like he does everything, nothing held back, throwing himself into the way their mouths fit together, the shape of their lips and the softness of how he brushes his tongue over the seam of Shiro's lips, like there's nothing else in the whole universe but this moment between the two of them.

He says Keith's name, breathes it into the space between them purely for the taste of it on his tongue, and lets Keith sweep his tongue into his mouth, still slow, still careful, like he's learning the taste of it, mapping and memorizing every detail. For his part, Shiro is pleased to let him, pleased to be able to slide a hand up the line of Keith's back, following the line of his spine beneath the layers of the Blade equivalent of a dress uniform, dark greys and blues that shade into purple, and feels Keith arch into the touch just a bit as he utters a low, pleased sound against Shiro's mouth.

He draws away from Shiro's mouth and noses along the line of his jaw instead, dragging his lips over Shiro's skin and planting a delicate bite at the corner. The scrape of his teeth after the softness of his mouth, sharper than expected, runs through Shiro like a shock, something more than just the contrast of the sensations—maybe it's the idea of wearing a mark Keith left on him for the whole of the universe to see, or maybe it's the easy, unselfconscious way Keith does it, acting on what he wants with perfect assurance. Or maybe it's just the reminder that this is Keith kissing him, sharp-edged and sweet and (apparently) not quite like any other lover Shiro has chosen in his life.

Maybe that's a good thing, though.

Keith kisses the place he's just bitten, soft. "This okay?"

"Very okay."

He feels Keith's lips move against his skin, curving into a smile. "Good." He tilts his head and closes his teeth on the spot just under Shiro's ear, holding him.

Shiro doesn't know whether it's instinct or luck that has guided Keith to that spot, but he doesn't think either of them are expecting the groan that the bite rips out of Shiro's throat in response. Shiro fists his hand in Keith's tunic, tightens his grip on his hip, as heat rolls over him. That's _always_ been a good spot for him, sure, but _God_ , this is something else. 

" _Oh_." Keith's voice is pitched low, vibrant with delight. " _Very_ okay. I see." He licks the spot that already tingles from the edge of his teeth and does it again. Not hard, never hard, but Shiro can feel that it's not because he couldn't—can feel that Keith could break skin easily if he wanted to, because his teeth really are too sharp to be purely human.

So that's a moment of self-discovery. 

Keith exploits the response he's discovered the way he would any advantage he's found on the battlefield or in the training hall. He bites and licks his way down the side of Shiro's throat, varying the strength of each bite—testing Shiro's reactions, because once he reaches Shiro's collar, he switches sides and works his way up the other side of Shiro's throat, each bite perfectly calculated to balance the edge of his teeth with his restraint. By the time he catches the lobe of Shiro's ear between his teeth, Shiro is trembling and achingly hard in his pants like some kind of teenager.

He can feel that Keith is hard, too, where they're pressed together.

Shiro loosens his grip on Keith's tunic and weaves his fingers into the base of his braid instead. Keith _growls_ when he pulls just a bit, and probably feels the way the sound makes Shiro's cock jump. The next sound he makes is much more thoughtful.

Shiro will worry about what this all might mean later. "Can we move this to the bed?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Guess that would help." Then Keith bites him again, hard enough that Shiro is definitely going to be wearing the mark for a few days. 

Keith eels out of his grip while he's still reeling with the sensation. By the time Shiro gets himself back together (more or less), Keith has peeled himself out of everything but the Galra version of his boxers, which do approximately _nothing_ to preserve Keith's modesty at this point. The sight of Keith all but naked, clearly hard, and somewhere between insouciant and shy, absolutely undoes any progress Shiro has just made in pulling himself together. " _Keith_." He's taken blows to the head less stunning than this. "Oh my God, Keith."

Keith flips the braid over his shoulder and gives Shiro a pointed look that sweeps him from head to toe. "Guess you like what you see?"

Shiro manages to find his voice, though his mouth has run dry and it takes a couple of attempts to actually speak. "Yeah, you could say that, but it's a hell of an understatement."

Keith ducks his head just a bit; a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "No kidding? Huh." He gestures at Shiro, taking half a step towards him. "Can I help you with some of that, maybe?"

Oh, right. He's still wearing way too many clothes for this situation. Shiro clears his throat. "Yeah, that would—that would be great." Mindful of their original goal, he goes to Keith. 

Keith beats him to it when he reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with swift fingers and letting it fall where one of them will surely trip over it later. That lets the outer tunic Shiro wears, just like Keith's own, fall open, so he shrugs it off and lets it join the belt on the floor.

Keith drops into a crouch and Shiro short-circuits again. Intellectually, he knows it's just so Keith can get at his boots, but Keith is going after his boots for a reason. The sight of Keith at his feet in conjunction with that reason sends Shiro straight to all the possibilities. He groans, earning a glance up from Keith that transforms into a slow grin. "You see something else you like?" He keeps working on the laces of the boots while Shiro stutters, but leans forward and rubs his cheek against Shiro's thigh at the same time, maintaining eye contact as he does it. "You thinking about what else I could be doing down here?" He's so close to the obscene bulge in Shiro's undersuit that Shiro shudders, imagining that he can feel the heat of Keith's breath on him. "I know I've thought about it. Imagined being on my knees for you. Thought about having your cock in my mouth." As Shiro groans again, Keith moves closer and nuzzles Shiro, mouthing the shape of him through the undersuit.

Then he pulls away and rises from his crouch, his grin at the way Shiro whines in disappointment utterly wicked. "Can't do that while you're still dressed, of course."

Shiro kicks his boots off while Keith is reaching for him. "You're a terrible person." They both fumble for the hidden seam of Shiro's undersuit, which is probably counterproductive for getting it off him quickly. "Who taught you to be like this?"

He can feel the way Keith freezes, his fingers going still against Shiro's, before he shrugs. "Long story. Ask me again later, maybe."

Shiro takes that and the time it takes Keith to start moving again, and the math is clear. Well, it really isn't the done thing to speak of former lovers when one is about to go to bed with a _new_ lover, is it? There's still a span of Keith's life he doesn't know much about from those years between the beginning and end of his marriage. Keith hasn't offered to say much about them for reasons that Shiro has always wondered about but not really dared to question. He'd forfeited that right, after all. But maybe it's been restored to him now. "I'd like to hear about it sometime, if you want to tell me about it. But only if you want to."

Keith looks at him, studying his face for something that Shiro can only guess at. Then he nods, one sharp jerk of his chin. "Later."

Then he peels the suit right off Shiro's shoulders and down past his hips. Shiro forgets everything in the face of the way Keith sinks back to his knees as he does it. "Oh my _God_."

Keith stares him straight in the eye as he pulls Shiro's shorts down, leans in, and drags his tongue from the base of Shiro's cock to the head. Shiro doesn't know what exactly he tries to say, but it comes out as garbled, incoherent syllables in the face of Keith's eyes, blazing hot as he gazes up at Shiro, and the way the head of his cock looks when it's resting against Keith's lower lip. Nothing in his life could possibly have prepared him for a sight like that. He manages to breathe Keith's name, as praise or a plea, he doesn't know which. Keith takes that as his cue to wrap his mouth around him and slide down around Shiro's cock, hot and slick, _God_ , still staring up at him, watching him as he hollows his cheeks around it.

Shiro groans, reaching down to him and stroking his fingers over Keith's hair, his jaw, too dazed with the slow bob of Keith's mouth over his cock to do much more than that. It's been so _long_ since he's been intimate with anyone other than his own hand. 

Keith's eyes crinkle at the corners; he slides his hands up Shiro's thighs and curves them around his hips, tugging on them gently. The invitation couldn't be clearer if it had been written in calligraphy on a gilt-edged card.

Shiro has enough presence of mind to keep the first roll of his hips shallow, restrained, but Keith goes with it easily, relaxing his jaw as Shiro slides his cock over his tongue., sinking into his mouth. He rumbles a sound that's distinctly satisfied as Shiro does it. Shiro accepts that as encouragement to continue and relaxes into instinct, cupping Keith's face in his hands and fucking into his mouth the way the heat coiling at the base of his spine wants him to. He can't keep his eyes off Keith as he does, awed by the dreamy satisfaction in Keith's half-lidded gaze, still fixed on him, and the shape Keith's mouth makes around his cock, the filthy sound of it sliding in and out of Keith's mouth accompanied by the harsh noise of his own breathing, the little gasps and groans he utters as pleasure pulls him taut, has every muscle in his body tense with how they're straining after the edge—

Shiro can feel the impending crisis and groans with it, setting his teeth on his lip as he tries to pull away out of consideration. Keith _must_ realize what he's trying to do, he's too comfortable with this not to, and yet—he follows when Shiro tries to draw back, breaking away from his hands and keeping his mouth sealed around the head of him, his tongue pressed against the underside of the crown, curling into it just so. Shiro groans, seeing stars, and tries to warn him. "Keith—I'm gonna—"

Keith slides a hand over and curls it around him, holding him, and sucks _hard_.

Shiro shouts as orgasm breaks over him, shaking him from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head as it rushes over him, unstringing all his muscles with its force. _That_ is when Keith chooses to pull off him. He catches the first pulse on his tongue, but the next stripes his face from forehead to chin. So does the next when Shiro realizes what he's seeing, that Keith is working his hand over his cock, stroking him through it, damn near milking him, rumbling out another of those immensely pleased sounds as he does it like there's nothing he's ever wanted more than to be at Shiro's feet while Shiro comes his brains out all over his face.

Shiro has to catch himself on Keith's shoulder, bracing himself as he hunches in on himself once the pleasure finally recedes, leaving him trembling in its aftermath. Keith still holds him, fingers gentle around him, and then he—

"Oh my God, Keith." He can barely stand the soft brush of Keith's tongue on too-sensitive skin, but he can't bring himself to stop Keith from lapping him clean, either. "Oh my _God_."

When he's satisfied, Keith settles back on his heels and shoots a lazy grin up at Shiro, apparently unbothered by the mess on his face. "Was that something like what you were thinking about?"

Keith can't honestly expect a coherent answer just now, surely, so Shiro does the next best thing and touches his fingers to Keith's jaw, delicate, to wipe some off the mess off Keith's chin with his thumb. "Jesus, Keith."

Keith leans into his fingers and swipes his tongue across the pad of Shiro's thumb. His grin stretches wider at the shocked sound Shiro makes. "That an offer to help me clean up?"

He's not sixteen anymore and there is no way that he can possibly go again so soon, but that doesn't keep his cock from twitching anyway. Shiro exhales, the breath shuddering out of him, and could almost imagine that he's watching someone else's hand moving over Keith's face, wiping the streaks of come from his skin and then offering his fingers for Keith to scour clean with his tongue. Could almost believe this is a bit of filthy porn that he's watching but for the texture of Keith's skin under his fingers and the heat of his mouth when he wraps them around his fingers and sucks them clean. "Jesus, Keith, you…" He stops there, at a loss for the words that will do Keith justice.

"Me," Keith agrees, as simple as that, and finishes dragging Shiro's undersuit down his legs. He rises to his feet and steps close, pulling Shiro to him and kissing him, lips parted to let Shiro taste himself on Keith's tongue, close enough to smell himself on Keith's skin. It jolts Shiro like an electric shock and has him seizing Keith to pull him tight against his body. Keith groans against his lips and grinds himself against Shiro's hip, hard and hot even through the thin stuff of his boxers. He groans again when Shiro grabs his ass, pulling him in tight, and tips his head back to look at Shiro from beneath his lashes. "Your turn to decide what we're doing." Shiro has him pinned too securely to do much, but he manages to hitch his hips against Shiro the tiniest bit. "I don't care _what_ , as long as it's _something_."

That's a tremendous amount of latitude when Shiro doesn't even know what kinds of things Keith does and doesn't like in bed. Maybe that's the place to start, just to keep himself from being paralyzed by the sheer scope of possibilities. Shiro kisses the arched line of Keith's throat. "Let's start with the bed."

He hates to turn loose of Keith, but it's almost worth it just for the way Keith drops himself on the bed, legs spread just enough to suggest the possibility of more, his cock straining against the confines of his boxers, wet enough that the cloth has gone translucent, has molded itself to the shape of the flushed skin beneath. Shiro swallows hard and barely manages to remember to snag the basket of sex toys—there has to be something like lube in there somewhere—as he goes to Keith. He slides a knee onto the bed and moves to lean over Keith, deciding it's been too long since he's kissed Keith. Keith is all too willing to be kissed again, to clasp a hand around Shiro's nape and kiss back, licking into Shiro's mouth with a pleased growl. 

He knows that Keith has offered up—anything, probably—and that he's eager, maybe even desperate, for more, but Shiro can't quite keep himself from touching him slowly. He runs his hands over Keith's skin, organic and cyborg alike, learning the shape of him beneath both, finding scars that are familiar and that are not, discovering the places that make Keith gasp against his mouth and the places that make him moan instead.

Then his hands hit the waistband of Keith's boxers and Keith stills under him so completely that Shiro freezes too, certain that he's crossed a line. He draws away from Keith's mouth, concerned. "Keith?"

Looking at Keith is good; Keith doesn't look upset or afraid or anything else that might reinforce the sudden inchoate fears that surged through Shiro after that reaction. He does, however, look uncertain. "So, um. I should… warn you, I guess."

"Warn me? About what?" They've seen each other naked before in locker rooms or during awkward missions; Shiro can't think of any reason for Keith to need to warn him about anything he's packing. 

That is apparently a failure of imagination on his part. Keith takes a deep breath. "So. Galra puberty is a hell of a thing. I'm, uh. Not exactly Earth-standard anymore."

"Okay." Shiro studies him, the way Keith seems to be struggling to meet his eyes, is so still beneath him. Braced. "Do you think that's something that bothers me?"

"It bothers some people, if what they're used to is normal human cocks," Keith mutters. "So I figured I'd better warn you."

There's a story there, one that Shiro wants to hear, if only he can get a name out of it. But now isn't the time for that. "Hey." He waits until Keith meets his eyes again. "It's you. Nothing about you could ever bother me, no matter how standard it is. Or isn't. Okay?"

Keith grants him a crooked half-smile. "Yeah, you say that…"

Shiro is definitely going to get that name out of him later. Hopefully not names, but only for Keith's sake and because one unkind lover in Keith's past is already one too many. "I mean that. I love you, all of you, no matter what."

Keith relaxes somewhat as wonder overtakes wariness. "Shiro…"

"Let me see you?"

He waits for Keith's nod before hooking his fingers in the waistband of Keith's boxers and dragging them down. For a moment everything feels absolutely anticlimactic. Keith's cock springs free, curving over his stomach and flushed dark with blood, precome beading at the head. Shiro's first impression is that it's a perfectly normal human cock, nicely proportioned and uncut, until Keith reaches down and angles it away from his body, displaying it for him.

Shiro takes the pattern of darker skin for a play of the candlelight at first, or perhaps a form of the markings so many Galra seem to have. Then Keith runs a thumb down his cock and what he's seeing falls into place: they aren't shadows or markings at all. They're bumps. Or ridges. Something like that.

He's reaching to touch before he quite realizes it and brings himself up short at the last second. "Can I…?"

Keith nods again, still all too watchful. "Sure, go ahead."

Shiro curls his hand around Keith, satisfyingly thick in his grip, and hardly knows what to give his attention to—exploring the shape and weight of Keith's cock, or watching Keith's expression as he touches him, the way his lips part on a gasp as he rocks his hips against Shiro's hand, the way he closes his eyes and sighs as Shiro passes his fingers over the shaft. They're ridges, he discovers, sloping gently back from the head of Keith's cock, most pronounced and solid on the top side of it. The underside is sleeker, the skin softer—more sensitive, too, he finds as he strokes his fingers over it. Keith arches with a cry as Shiro explores him there the way he didn't when he was tracing his fingertips over the less-yielding ridges.

Shiro thinks about how those ridges might feel, working in and out of him, and groans. "God…"

"Too weird?"

"Not weird at all." Shiro honestly hates how unsure of himself Keith sounds. "You're perfect." He rubs his thumb over the ridges, tracing them down and up again, the swell and dip of them, and shivers just a bit. "I want you to fuck me."

A name. A set of names. Whatever. Shiro needs to have words with anyone and everyone who ever did anything to make Keith seem _surprised_ by the request. By Shiro's absolute willingness to accept him exactly as he is. He looks up at Shiro, wide-eyed. "What, really?"

"Yeah, really." Shiro leans down and kisses him, coaxing, running his fingers over the smooth underside of Keith's cock as he does for the way it makes Keith moan. "I want to know how you're going to feel when you're inside me, because I think it's going to be _amazing_."

He can feel the way Keith's cock twitches, and if he's not mistaken, the ridges are starting to become even more pronounced. Keith bucks against his hand as Shiro strokes his fingertips against the underside of the crown. Yeah, the ridges are definitely taking on more definition as Keith starts getting back into the swing of things. God, Shiro can't wait to see how he looks, how he feels, when he's all the way there again.

"God, Shiro, I love you so much." Keith's voice has gone husky, his eyes dark and hot. "So, so fucking much." He kisses him again, fierce, and gives Shiro just long enough to feel that he's gathering himself. Then the world spins around them and Shiro finds himself flat on his back and Keith over him, smiling at him so openly that his chest aches with it. "We can talk about the rest of it later."

He stoops on Shiro to kiss him again before Shiro can ask him what he means by _the rest of it_. His uncertainty has vanished and he kisses Shiro like he means to devour him.

Shiro decides that _the rest_ , whatever it is, can't be that important. He hooks his arms around Keith and answers his enthusiasm with his own, pleased by the weight of Keith's body over his and the strength in it that's belied by Keith's slim build. 

When Keith finally breaks away from his mouth, it's to drag the basket over. He picks through it like he knows precisely what he wants, discarding bottles and packets and various… objects… without a second glance. Another story for later, Shiro supposes, watching him and eyeing the discards with both trepidation and curiosity.

Keith seizes on a bottle with a triumphant _hah!_ of satisfaction. "Here we are."

"Space lube, I presume?" Shiro laughs at Keith's pleased nod. "Our lives are so weird."

"Won't catch me arguing with that." Keith returns to him, murmuring a pleased sound into the kiss Shiro welcomes him with, and makes another of those when Shiro pulls a knee up, opening himself up for Keith.

Space lube has one up on the Earth kind: Keith doesn't take any time to warm the stuff up on his fingers before he reaches down to stroke them against Shiro, but the stuff is already pleasantly warm when that first touch registers with him. He spreads his knees even wider, catching Keith's bottom lip between his teeth to encourage him, and earns the first steady pressure of Keith's sinking a finger into him as a reward.

It feels good, something he hasn't done with a partner in, well, it's been a while. What's even better is the open concentration on Keith's face, the wrinkle that draws his eyebrows together and the tooth hooked on his lip with how focused he is. Shiro can't keep himself from reaching for him and wouldn't have wanted to stop if he could; he raises himself up on an elbow and cups Keith's jaw, guiding him into another kiss, just for the way Keith sighs into his mouth. His lashes flutter a bit as Shiro strokes a thumb over his cheek, finding the line of too-smooth skin as Keith sucks on his tongue, but he doesn't stop the slow flex of his wrist, sliding his finger in and out of Shiro steadily.

Shiro is the one who breaks away from the kiss, dropping his head back on a groan when Keith sinks a second finger into him. The stretch is sharper, running up his spine, and collides with the sensation of Keith biting the bared line of his throat.

Shiro gasps like he's been punched, sliding his fingers into Keith's hair, and then Keith angles his fingers just right to rub over Shiro's prostate. He cries out, jolted by the flare of raw sensation, and can feel the way Keith is smiling in the movement of his lips against his throat. Keith does it again, and again, working his fingers in and out of Shiro and mouthing his throat until desire is thrumming through Shiro and his cock is lying against his stomach, heavy and hard again. 

Tugging on Keith's hair gets a growl from him, though it doesn't seem to be a displeased sound. Shiro presses their mouths together, hard and messy with how hungry he is for this. "Fuck me," he tells Keith, shaping the words against his lips. "Please, Keith."

Keith shudders, groaning. "Yeah, okay."

Shiro gropes for one of the pillows and plants his feet on the bed so he can jam it under his hips while Keith is pouring out a palmful of space lube and slicking it over his cock. He groans again as he does, rocking into his own fist, heedless of anything but his own pleasure and utterly gorgeous with it. Shiro can only stare at him, at how beautiful he is, and be amazed all over again that Keith is his, wants to be his, in spite of everything. 

Then Keith opens his eyes and smiles at him, as wondrous a sight as seeing the sun rise over the horizon from orbit, and he's lost all over again. "God, I love you."

"Shiro…" Keith leans forward, setting his hands against the backs of Shiro's thighs and sliding them up as he does, pushing his knees up and spreading them wide. Shiro leans up to meet him, pressing his lips to Keith's, soft, nearly chaste. "Shiro, God, you're the universe and everything in it to me."

And he pushes into Shiro in the same breath.

Shiro clutches at Keith's shoulders, gripping them hard as Keith sinks into him, a slow and inexorable slide that would be amazing in its own right, but he'd forgotten about the ridges. Each one stretches him harder until the peak of it sinks past his rim and eases the stretch back from the edge of the bearable, just in time for the next one to begin the process over again. And then Keith is deep enough inside him that the first one drags over his prostate. The sudden there-and-gone-again pressure makes Shiro shout, wordless, the sound getting garbled in his throat as the next ridge slides over him. 

Keith comes to rest over him, panting for breath as Shiro does the same, stunned by the heavy weight of how Keith is filling him up and the unexpectedly intense way Keith's cock works his body, and more than anything else, by the way Keith is looking at him now, like Shiro is the most amazing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

Shiro manages to loosen his grip on Keith's shoulder enough to brush his fingers through the hair that nothing can seem to keep from falling into Keith's eyes. Keith turns his face to press his lips against Shiro's palm.

And then he begins to draw back. 

Shiro loses track of everything that isn't the way Keith's cock feels sliding out of him, ridges working his muscles mercilessly and causing fireworks to explode behind his eyelids as they pass over his prostate again. He may shout again with how much it is and certainly hasn't even begun to come to grips with the sensation by the time Keith is only barely inside him, holding him open around the head of his cock. Keith rocks into him again, faster this time, and Shiro is _gone_ , is nothing more than the raw sensation sweeping through him as Keith sinks home and draws back, never pausing or stilling for even a moment, not that Shiro knows whether he could bear it if he did. All he knows is that the way Keith is fucking him might be ruining him for anyone else and that he wants it that way—wants the way Keith is fucking him to sear him to his bones and mark every part of him with how absolutely he belongs to Keith now.

His orgasm catches him utterly by surprise, pleasure closing on him like a fist as Keith's movements pick up speed and urgency. It whites out his vision as it grips him, stealing his breath and his voice as he comes apart under the force of it. Keith groans like the sound is being wrenched out of him by main force as Shiro's body wrings tight around him, and bucks against him, hard and erratic.

Shiro's breath catches on something like a sob as Keith works his rim mercilessly, the relentless stretch of those ridges nearly too much to bear as they rake aftershocks of pleasure up his spine. Keith groans again, his name, and strains against him, shaking as he follows Shiro over the edge.

Every nerve ending Shiro has is sensitized to the point of being almost too much. As he watches Keith arch over him, expression gone slack and more open than he's ever seen it, he'd swear he can feel every twitch and pulse of Keith's cock spilling inside him.

Keith doesn't subside so much as he collapses in the wake of coming, sprawling against Shiro's chest and panting out little moans. Shiro doesn't even know how he manages to do it, since his thighs are still spread across Keith's and Keith is still inside him. Score another point to half-Galra genetics, he supposes, settling a hand against the sweaty wreck of Keith's hair and stroking it.

Keith rumbles, the sound coming from deep in his chest, ebbing and flowing with the rhythm of his slowing breath.

Shiro pauses with his fingers halfway down Keith's braid. "Is that—are you purring?"

"That's new." The rumble quiets when Keith speaks, becomes an undertone to his voice, but doesn't disappear entirely. "Didn't think I'd gotten that one."

Shiro resumes stroking his hair. "Galra purr, huh?"

"Some do. Mom does." Keith shifts against him just a bit, pillowing his cheek against Shiro's chest a bit more comfortably. Shiro isn't sure, but he thinks Keith might be pressing an ear to it to listen to his heartbeat. "I've never done it before." He pauses, reflecting. "Probably never been this happy before, either."

Shiro has to swallow before he can comment on that. "Yeah, well. Me neither, really."

Keith's purr goes deeper, gets louder, utterly betraying his attempt to be casual. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Shiro says, trying to stroke his hair smooth. "Definitely."

Keith exhales and gropes for Shiro's hand, tangling their fingers together. "Good."

Shiro squeezes his hand. "It really is, yeah."

In a little while, they're going to need to clean up, maybe soak in a hot bath for a bit, and talk about whatever Keith meant by _the rest of it_ , but for now, he's perfectly content to listen to the contented rumble of Keith's purr and simply be happy.

It's been a bit of a wait, but as far as Shiro's concerned, it's been entirely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always lovely!


End file.
